


Stomach Flu Boogaloo

by decadent_mousse



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Food Poisoning, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Sickfic, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-17
Updated: 2013-11-17
Packaged: 2018-01-01 21:08:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1048580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/decadent_mousse/pseuds/decadent_mousse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Newt was so busy on that fateful day, he’d decided to skip going to the mess hall and just raided the fridge in the lab when his stomach started growling too loudly for him to ignore it anymore.  He didn’t have anything stashed in there to eat – but Hermann did.  In retrospect, what he did next might’ve made what happened later his fault.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stomach Flu Boogaloo

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ClassyFangirl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClassyFangirl/gifts).



> This could probably be really, really loosely considered a sequel to No Such Thing As Too Much Coffee, and takes place around a year or so after that fic. It pretty much stands on its own, though.

Newt was so busy on that fateful day, he’d decided to skip going to the mess hall and just raided the fridge in the lab when his stomach started growling too loudly for him to ignore it anymore.  He didn’t have anything stashed in there to eat – but Hermann did.  In retrospect, what he did next _might’ve_ made what happened later his fault. 

Twenty minutes later, Hermann went to retrieve his sandwich from the refrigerator only to find it gone. 

“Newton.”

He didn’t look up from the kaiju sample he was slicing into.  “Hmm?”

“What happened to my sandwich?”

“Which sandwich?”

The irritation practically dripped from Hermann’s voice.  “You know full well which sandwich.  You _ate_ it, didn’t you?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, dude.”  Grinning probably didn’t help his case at all.  He did it anyway.

“You’re insufferable,” Hermann grumbled.  “I’m going to go get something to eat.”

“Could you–“

Hermann stormed towards the door.  “I am not bringing _anything_ back for you.  I hope you starve.”

Newt snickered.

~

Usually Hermann just brought his food back to the lab, but between the length of time he was gone and the fact he came back empty-handed, Newt figured he must have just ate in the mess hall.  He must’ve really been mad – he usually hated eating there alone. 

“Are you still angry about the sandwich?”

Hermann refused to look at him as he walked over to his chalkboard.  “Yes.”

“Oh come on, dude.  I was hungry.”

“You’re always hungry, and it was _my_ lunch.  Instead I had to eat chicken masala.”

“Chicken _masala_?  What are you even complaining about?  That’s better than what they usually have down there.”

Hermann grimaced.  “Yes, well, it was only chicken masala in the loosest possible sense.  It tasted terrible.  In fact, I’m reasonably certain it wasn’t actually chicken.”

Newt curled his nose.  “Oh.  Eww.”

“Yes, _eww_.”

“I’m sorry, dude.”

Hermann scowled.  “Not nearly sorry enough.”

He felt kind of bad about eating Hermann’s sandwich, now.  He could feel the guilt settling deep down in the pit of his stomach.  Then again, it might’ve just been indigestion.  Or half guilt, half indigestion.  Or twenty-five percent guilt, seventy-five percent indigestion.

~

An hour later, Newt was feeling even worse, and it definitely wasn’t indigestion.

Hermann had went from looking disgruntled about his dubious chicken masala, to looking a little bit queasy, to looking _a lot_ queasy.

“Hey, Hermann, are you okay?”

“Of course.”

It was a pretty blatant lie.  Hermann looked ready to either throw up or pass out – or throw up _then_ pass out.  _Or die_ , some anxious part of Newt’s brain whispered.  “Are you sure?  ‘Cause you don’t really look okay.  Maybe you should take a nap or something.”

Hermann sighed wearily.  “Newton, don’t you have better things to do than harass me while I’m trying to work?” 

“Well, excuse me for caring, Dr. Grumpypants,” Newt grumbled, turning his attention back to his work.  He kept glancing over at Hermann, though, because something was definitely up.

~

An hour later, Hermann calmly laid down his chalk and just as calmly disappeared into the bathroom, and Newt wouldn’t have thought anything of it if he hadn’t already had his suspicions at that point.  Well, that and the loud retching sound that was coming from the bathroom – that would’ve been a dead giveaway.

He walked over to the bathroom door.  “Are you okay in there, buddy?”

No response.  Not even a “mind your own business, Newton.”  Okay, that was kind of worrying.

At any given moment, there were around a couple hundred thoughts buzzing through Newt’s head.  It never took him very long to make a decision, even a potentially catastrophic one.  He twisted the doorknob to see if it was locked – it wasn’t.  Then he cautiously opened the door a crack.  “…Hermann?”

“Do _not_ come in here,” Hermann’s voice replied shakily.

“Dude, seriously, are you okay in there?”

“I’m– I’m fine.”

‘Fine’ was pretty much standard Hermann-speak for not fine at all.  “Yeah, sure, you sound fine.”

There was that retching sound again.

Newt cringed sympathetically.  “I’m coming in.”

“Do _not_.”

Most people would have respected Hermann’s privacy.  There were some days – rare days, sure, but they did happen – when even Newt would have just chosen to leave him alone.  Today was not one of those days.  He opened the door and entered the bathroom. 

Hermann was kneeling awkwardly on the floor, head bent over the toilet.  He glared at Newt blearily.  “I told you–“

“Yeah, yeah, I know.  File a complaint if you want.  ‘Marshall Pentecost, sir, Dr. Geiszler is concerned about my well-being and I find it very annoying.  Also, he ate my sandwich.  Please fire him.’”  He was pretty proud of his Hermann imitation.  He’d been practicing.

The mathematician scowled and looked about ready to say something snide, but then he turned a really impressive shade green – like _actual_ green, Newt didn’t think that was something that could actually _happen_ – and puked heavily into the toilet. 

Newt walked in and crouched down beside him.  “Man, you’re really sick.”

“I hadn’t noticed,” Hermann replied wetly, voice shaking slightly.

Newt couldn’t help it –  he reached out and rubbed Hermann’s back.  If he wanted to smack him with his cane for it later, he could just go right ahead – Newt couldn’t _not_ try to comfort him at least a little bit, he looked so sick and miserable.  Hermann’s back stiffened slightly at the unexpected contact, but he didn’t yell at him or tell him to go away.  Of course, it was probably hard to string sentences together when you were busy puking your guts out.

Hermann kept vomiting periodically until there wasn’t anything left in him to vomit, and then he dry-heaved a few times.  His eyes were watery and he was holding onto the edge of the toilet like it was the only thing keeping him upright – which it might’ve been, because holy shit, he looked _wrecked_.

“It’s okay, dude,” Newt said.  “It’s okay.”  He kept rubbing Hermann’s back, expecting him to shrug him off with each passing second, but he never did.

Once it looked like the worst of Hermann’s nausea had ran its course, they exited the bathroom together.  Newt reached out and pressed a hand to Hermann’s forehead.  It was almost immediately swatted away.

“You’re burning up, man,” Newt said as Hermann collapsed into a chair.  “I’m gonna call the medical bay and have someone come get you.”

“Newton, that is–“

“Dude,” Newt pointed wildly in the direction of the bathroom, “ _that_ was not normal.  That goes _way_ beyond just having an upset stomach.  I’m also pretty sure I could fry an egg on your head right now.”

Hermann huffed, and it was hard to tell if he was actually being huffy or if he was still trying to catch his breath after all the heaving he’d done in the bathroom.  “You’re being ridiculous.”

“Yeah, maybe, but I’d rather be ridiculous than have it turn out that you’re dying from some horrible plague and I didn’t do anything about it.”  He quickly added, “I mean, what if it’s some sort of epidemic?  What if you’re contagious?  I don’t want your plague cooties.”

“I’m touched,” the mathematician replied dryly.

Newt picked up the phone and dialed the extension for the medical bay.  It rang and it rang, and then it rang some more.  Finally, someone picked up.

The soft male voice on the other end of the phone was almost drowned out by all the noise in the background.  “Yes, hello?  This is the medical bay.”

“Finally!  I was beginning to think no one was gonna answer.”

“I’m very sorry, sir.  We’ve been very busy, what with the outbreak and all.”

“The _what_?!”  He’d just been kidding about the epidemic thing.  He hadn’t actually considered that it might be _true._   He lowered his voice to keep Hermann from hearing.  “An outbreak?  What _kind_ of outbreak?  Like a virus or something?”

“No, no,” the nurse on the other end replied in a placating tone.  “Nothing like that, Dr. Geiszler.  It’s salmonella.  At least half of the Shatterdome personnel have come down with it.  We think there was contaminated food served in the mess hall sometime yesterday or this morning.  We haven’t been able to narrow down exactly where it originated yet, but it’s nothing serious!”

“Nothing serious?!” Newt exclaimed loudly.

Behind him, Hermann huffed, startled, “Newton, what on earth–“

“I’ll have you know, Hermann– Uh, Dr. Gottlieb has been puking his guts out for the past half an _hour_.  Does that sound normal to you, dude?”

The voice on the other end of the line was starting to sound a bit flustered.  “Well, of course not, but–“

“Look, just send someone down here to get him and take him to the infirmary.”

Hermann stood up unsteadily, sounding extremely irate.  “Newton, that is _completely_ unnecessary I am–“

“Dude, if you say ‘fine’ _one more time_ –“

The nurse squeaked.  “Wh–“

“What?  No, not you, I was talking to Hermann.  Look, like I said, just send someone over and–“

“Dr. Geiszler, I’m afraid the infirmary’s currently at maximum capacity.  _A lot_ of people have been affected by this outbreak, and we–  Well, we simply don’t have anymore room down here to accommodate any more–“

“ _Excuse_ me?!  Whoa, whoa, whoa!  This is _serious_ , dude!  Have you not heard, like, a single word I’ve been saying?”

“Yes, but–“

Behind him, he heard Hermann retch again.  Newt glanced over his shoulder and saw Hermann with his head bowed over a trash bin.

“No!  No, there’s no ‘but’ here!  Dr. Gottlieb is sick, and he needs medical attention.  _Now_.  So, y’know, I don’t care what you have to do – but you’d better _make_ room!”

“Sir, we _can’t_.”

Oh, fuck that.  “You can’t?  You _can’t_?!  Really?  Would you like to be the one to have to explain to Marshall Pentecost that you let the best scientist the PPDC has in its arsenal _die_ from food poisoning just because you’re a little bit busy over there?  Man, it’s sure a good thing the Shatterdome _wasn’t_ hit by some horrible viral outbreak, because if it was, half of us would die because you were too busy being ‘at maximum capacity’ to do anything!”

“Please, sir, just calm–“

“You know what?  Forget it!  I’ll figure something out on my own, since clearly you guys are fucking _useless_!”

“Newton!” Hermann admonished, sounding scandalized.

Newt slammed the phone down on the receiver so hard he thought he might’ve broken it.  Which was just as well, since apparently it wasn’t good for anything.  So they were busy in the medical bay – so what?  They didn’t even _offer_ to come check on Hermann, they just brushed him off like it was no big deal.  God, he was so pissed. 

“That was one of the most outrageous, unprofessional outbursts I’ve ever witnessed,” Hermann said.  “And after almost a decade of working with you, that’s saying something.”

“Yeah, well.”

They stood there silently for a couple of minutes before Hermann inquired, “The best?”

Newt blinked at him.  “Huh?”

“On the phone, you said I was ‘the best scientist the PPDC has.’”

“Well,” Newt cleared his throat and smiled.  “In your field.  The best scientist… in your field.  ‘Cause obviously, if I just meant in general, that would be _me_.”

Hermann smiled back and that freaked him out a little bit.  He could think of three – maybe four – times he’d ever seen Hermann smile and this was the first time it had ever been directed at _him_.  Maybe his fever was getting worse.  Maybe he was starting to hallucinate.  Maybe he thought he was having a conversation with a pink elephant instead of a tattooed biologist who annoyed the shit out of him on a daily basis.

“They’re idiots,” Newt added quickly, ignoring the heat that was creeping its way up his face.  “I mean, so a few people are sick, big deal.  You’re really, really obviously in worse shape than most of the people down there probably are, but will they even send anyone down to _check_ on you, no, of course not, because they’re idiots.”

“Yes, you’ve already said that.”

“Yeah, well, that’s because they are!  They really, really _are_ , I can’t believe–“

“Newton, yelling and carrying on about it isn’t helping.”

It took conscious effort on Newt’s part to lower his voice.  He was so pissed off.  Seriously, screw those guys.  “I’m sorry, dude.  I just–  I’m sorry.  Come on, come over here and lie down for awhile.”

“I do not need to lie down.  I am perfectly fine.”  The expression on Hermann’s face looked more like it belonged on a stubborn twelve-year-old than on a grown man, and it was so adorable Newt almost laughed.  He didn’t, of course, because sick or not he was still pretty sure Hermann would smack him if he did.

“Dude, you just threw up into a trash can, and right before that you spent twenty minutes throwing up in the bathroom, you are _so_ far from ‘perfectly fine.’  ‘Perfectly fine’ is like in a whole other galaxy right now.  You’d need the Hubble telescope to find it, and even then it’d just be an itty bitty little speck out in space.”

Hermann looked like he wanted to argue, but when he opened his mouth to say something he just breathed in shakily and barely made it to the trash can in time to throw up again.  After that, he grudgingly allowed Newt to guide him over to the couch.

“This is ridiculous,” Hermann said, once it seemed safe to open his mouth again.

“No, what’s ridiculous is that no one but me seems to care that you’re sick.  _That’s_ ridiculous.”

“Other people are sick too, Newton.”

“Yeah, but you’re special,” Newt blurted before he could stop himself.

Hermann froze and stared at him like he’d sprouted a second head.

_Oh God.  Oh God.  Oh shit._ “Uh.”

He was still staring at him.

“You’re kinda irreplaceable, dude.”  No, that was worse, shit.  “To the PPDC, I mean.”  He was pretty sure his heart was pounding hard enough that half the Shatterdome could hear it.

“I… I see.”

If he hadn’t been so tired and so sick, Hermann probably wouldn’t have let it go that easily, but as it was he seemed satisfied with that answer, and Newt let out a soft sigh of relief.  “A-anyway.  Don’t worry about it, dude.  I’ll take care of you.”

“Don’t you have better things to do than to fuss over me needlessly?” he grumbled.

“Pfft.  ‘Needlessly,’ my ass, you look like shit.”

Hermann glared at him.  “Really?  I hadn’t noticed.  How kind of you to keep me informed.”

Newt snorted.  “Oh, knock it off, Hermann.  You know what I meant.  There’s plenty of need, okay?  And I _do_ have work to do, but I can multitask, you know?  That’s why I figured you should rest here instead of your room.  I mean, your bed’s probably more comfortable than the couch, but this way if you need anything, you’ve got me.”

Hermann’s scowl faded and his gaze softened.  “I– Thank you, Newton.”

A warm, fuzzy feeling settled in his chest.  Was it weird to want to kiss your lab partner when he was sick and had just emptied his stomach of all its contents?  He’d probably taste terrible, but Newt wouldn’t have minded much.  If he hadn’t already been pretty sure for awhile now that he was completely _screwed_ , that definitely confirmed it.  Wanting to kiss someone even when you knew they’d taste like puke was definitely a sign.

“You’re welcome, dude,” he said softly.  “Uh, are you thirsty?  You’re probably thirsty.  Shit, you’re probably _dehydrated_ , I’m– I’m gonna go get you some water.  I’ll be right back!” 

He ran over to the sink before Hermann had a chance to say anything else.  He grabbed a glass that he was reasonably sure was clean-ish and filled it with tap water.  He was halfway back to Hermann before he considered the possibility that the _water_ could be tainted, too.  Then again, if it was in the water, more people probably would’ve gotten sick.  So it was _probably_ safe.  Probably.

“Were you actually planning on _giving_ me the water at some point, or…?”

Newt realized he’d been standing in the middle of the room for like three minutes staring into the glass of water.  “Uh, yeah.  Sorry.  I was just wondering if I should sterilize it.”

“I’m sure it’s fine.”

“Maybe I should boil it.”

Hermann let out a long-suffering sigh.  “I really don’t think that’s necessary, Newton.”

“I just–  Nevermind.  Yeah.  Yeah, it’s probably okay.”  He hurried over to Hermann’s side and handed him the water.

Hermann took a sip of the water and grimaced, glaring at the water like it had personally offended him.

“Dude, drink it.  I know it’s probably not that appealing with the nausea and everything, but you need to stay hydrated.  Or you’ll, y’know, shrivel up and _die_.”

The other man rolled his eyes. 

“Oh, don’t even.  I’ll hook you up to an IV if I have to.  I’m totally serious.”

“You’re not a medical doctor.  I doubt you’d even know how to–“

“Wanna bet?”

Hermann drank the water.  It took him awhile, and he paused every once in awhile and almost looked like he was going to be sick again couple times, but he did finish the whole glass.

“I feel ill.”

“That’s because you _are_ ill, genius.  Now lie down.”  Newt grabbed the couple pillows scattered along the couch and laid them at one end.  He grabbed the stuffed animal that had been hidden under one of said pillows and held it out to Hermann as he stretched out across the couch.

“That’s–“

Hermann had given Oskar to Newt a little over a year ago – he’d occupied a corner of the couch ever since.  “You haven’t forgotten him, have you?” Newt teased.

“I’m just surprised he still has all his limbs and isn’t stained with kaiju fluids,” he said, gratefully taking the stuffed lamb from Newt and inspecting it.  Hermann had had Oskar since childhood and had made it pretty clear that if anything happened to him on Newt’s watch he was going to be in some very serious trouble.  The “they’ll never find the body” kind of trouble.

“Hey, I promised you I’d take care of him, didn’t I?”

“Well, yes, but I didn’t actually think–“

Newt felt his throat tighten.  “Oh, okay.  You didn’t think I’d actually _keep_ my promise.  I see how it is.”

Hermann sighed and – maybe it was just the salmonella scrambling his brain – looked apologetic.  “I didn’t even realize you’d been keeping him in the lab this entire time.  I thought perhaps you’d shoved him in a drawer somewhere.”

“Well, uh.  It would’ve kind of defeated the purpose of having him if I didn’t keep him close-by, right?”  He also sometimes took him back to his room on the rare occasions that he actually slept there, but Hermann didn’t need to know that.  “He makes the couch a hundred and ten percent more comfortable.”

“I doubt that,” Hermann said, but he was blushing faintly.  It was the most color Newt had seen on his face all day.

“Scientific fact, dude.  I’ve tested it.”

~

Hermann was sick for around a week, though the first day had definitely been the worst.  One day, he’d decided to stay in his room to rest.  Newt kept heading over there throughout the day to check on him, and Hermann had groused about it and acted annoyed, but Newt had a feeling he appreciated his concern more than he let on. 

Some days Newt would nonchalantly walk by Hermann’s desk and drop off things like soup and crackers, because he was worried as sick as Hermann had been feeling, he wouldn’t eat if left to his own devices.  Hermann shot him weird looks when he came back to his desk only to find food that hadn’t been there five minutes before, but he ate it.

Newt had never really considered himself much of a nurturer.  Some days he had a hard enough time taking care of himself, nevermind anyone else.  Ages ago, he used to babysit Mako occasionally, but honestly most of those times ended with him feeling more like she’d babysat him instead of the other way around.  Something about Hermann just seemed to bring it out in him – he wasn’t really sure why. 

Yeah, okay, that was a total lie.

“Newton.”

He startled and glanced over at Hermann, who was sitting at his desk slowly making his way through a bowl of chicken soup Newt had made.  “Huh?”

Hermann still didn’t look too hot, but he didn’t look ready to throw up a lung, so it was an improvement over how he’d been earlier in the week.  “Are you feeling well?”

Newt snorted.  “Am _I_ feeling well?”

“You’ve been staring at that kaiju sample for the past ten minutes, and you look rather pale.  You aren’t sick, too, are you?”

“Uh, no.  No, I’m good, dude.  I was just thinking about some stuff.”

“Don’t strain yourself.”

“Ha, ha, very funny.”  He’d never admit it, but he was glad Hermann was feeling well enough to be a jerk again.  Before his nap, he’d been starting to get downright pleasant, and it had been _weird_.  Nice, but weird.

Hermann didn’t smile, exactly.  The corners of his mouth sort of twitched like it _wanted_ to smile, but it was definitely not a smile.  That didn’t stop it from making Newt’s heart do the Macarena.

He was definitely screwed.

**Author's Note:**

> I fully acknowledge that Newt was a bit of a jerk to that poor nurse on the phone, but you know how Newt can be when he gets all worked up.
> 
> Many, many thanks to ClassyFangirl for letting me borrow Oskar again! And also for indirectly inspiring this fic, since the idea for it smacked me upside the head two seconds after a conversation about wanting to write more fluff. <3


End file.
